


saturday night

by worthageatrois (palisadespalisades)



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, i ... don't know what to tag this as, post-cocktail episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palisadespalisades/pseuds/worthageatrois
Summary: after they shoot the cocktail episode, andrew and steven decide to finish their game of 'never have i ever'.filling a prompt i got on tumblr — "prove it" and "you're drunk".





	saturday night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kingbokuroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingbokuroo/gifts).



> hey guys! filling a prompt i got on tumblr, but it kind of got out of hand.
> 
> i'd really encourage you to listen to the sheepdogs' "changing colours" album while reading — that's the album i wrote this to, that's where the title's from, and that's the album andrew plays in the fic.
> 
> just a note: it doesn't get explicitly explicit. i can't write smut without turning into a 13 year old, so. still, it's got a satisfying amount of tension in it, and lots of standrew fondness™ too. enjoy!

They were in a Lyft heading home from the last location when Andrew mentioned that he used to be a bartender.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “part-time through college. I wasn’t, like, an expert or anything — just shitty student dives, you know. I make a decent Old Fashioned, though. Probably could rival the one at Good Times.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, yeah.”

The driver was taking some hard turns, and Steven, in his eternal foolishness, forgot to buckle his seatbelt. He was normally quite conscientious about that, but he was pretty drunk, so it slipped his mind — and it meant he was sliding around the back seat, leaning into Andrew. The combination of the liquid courage and the aggressive driving was making his head spin, and he was having a hard time controlling anything, really. His limbs and his impulses were flying. Before he could catch himself, he turned to Andrew, and started speaking just as the driver hit another turn. “ _ Prove it.” _

“Huh?” Andrew asked as Steven slid towards the window opposite, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Made me some drinks.”

“Now?” he asked again, as Steven slid into him again, hitting a bump so hard he nearly flew into Andrew’s lap.

Steven hadn’t actually  _ really _ meant that night in particular — he hadn’t thought anything he was saying through too deeply, but he was having fun with Andrew, and he didn’t have any particular motivation to end their evening. “Yeah, why not?”

“I mean, sure,” Andrew said, looking bemused. His cheeks were ruddy and his smile was familiar, and both of these things made Steven happy in a way he couldn’t explain. Andrew was a tough nut to crack, but he could feel him warming up, and that was a good feeling. Rewarding.

“Hey, can you just stop at his place?” Steven called to the driver, who, undoubtedly, just wanted to get them out of his car. “Andrew, what’s your address?”

It took five more minutes of erratic, speedy driving to get them to Andrew’s place. It was a cute bungalow, well-groomed and tidy. They spilled out of the car, and didn’t have a chance to thank the driver before he sped away. It was around one in the morning, and, standing behind Andrew as he waited for him to unlock the door, he felt a little funny — not in a bad way or a good way, just… a way, really. Steven, clearly, had never been the type for partying or hookups, but it felt a little like the mental picture he had of the latter — informed by pop culture, mostly. He felt, in a floaty, drunk way that he’d spend the next day walking home, holding his shoes in his hand in some kind of almost-walk of shame.

It took a minute of fumbling, but Andrew unlocked the door and let Steven go in first, following after him. Steven slipped his shoes off in the hall, swaying on one foot as he struggled with his laces. “Sorry it’s such a mess,” he heard Andrew say from behind him. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Steven glanced around. The place was spotless, more or less. There was a coffee cup on the counter in the kitchen, and a sweater draped over the arm of the couch, but it was much better than his own apartment — even at 27, still looking a little bachelor-ish. Andrew didn’t bother taking his shoes off, and passed Steven, heading into the living room. Steven followed him after a moment, standing in the doorway and watching his friend.

“I’m just putting some music on,” Andrew said, not bothering to turn around. He was pulling a record out of its sleeve, placing it carefully on the record player. Steven snorted — of course Andrew had a record player.

“Setting the mood?” he asked as he stepped into the room, eyes still roaming. The place was undeniably Andrew, and that filled him with a kind of fondness — it was so perfectly  _ him _ , and that made it wonderful in a way Steven didn’t know how to articulate.

Andrew didn’t respond, barking out a laugh instead. What sounded almost — but not quite — like southern rock, reminiscent of the 70s,  [ flooded the room ](https://open.spotify.com/album/5kra5G4vmzF0GOaQYCRcYc?si=FTa80kGzTtOxT5k-t3yEgw) . It wasn’t music Steven would’ve chosen, but it fit the mood, toe-tapping and upbeat but lowkey all at once; it suited Andrew. He started shimmying over to Andrew, bumping his shoulder. “Let’s get those drinks flowing, huh?” Andrew said, grinning. “Not like you need it, but.”

“Hey, I’m here for a good time  _ and _ a long time.”

Andrew motioned to the couch. “Take a seat. I’ll be back.”

Steven dropped down, slipping his jacket off and draping it over the back of the couch behind him. He could see the kitchen from the couch, peering over the island. Andrew was pulling up glasses and bottles, clanking noisily. Drunk as he was (pretty drunk, though considerably less so than Steven was, since he wasn’t nearly as much of a lightweight), he moved easily, fluid and familiar. It was a little mesmerizing, watching him work. The curve of his arms as he handled the bottles, how his brows creased, chewing on his lip in concentration... He blinked, and Andrew was in front of him, two tumblers in hand. He handed one to Steven, and took a sip of the other.

“So, what do you think?”

Steven took a sip of his own, and choked — it tasted good, yes, but he wasn’t really focused on… drinking, or anything, really, still zoned out, replaying Andrew making the drink in his head. He coughed, and Andrew looked on with a raised brow. Eventually, he managed another sip, and nodded thoughtfully — or in a way he hoped looked thoughtful, rather. “It’s good. Maybe not as good as Good Times, but good.” It was teasing, a challenge, and he looked up through his lashes at Andrew, devious smile playing on his lips as he waited for a reaction.

“Guess it’s not your drink, then. I’ll make you something that’ll knock those cocktails out of the water.”

“If you come back with a Shirley Temple I’m leaving.”

“Okay. Go on, then. Get out.” Andrew’s face had gone blank, almost stern, and for a moment, Steven’s smile froze, eyes widening.Then, Andrew cracked a smile. “I’m kidding, God. You looked like you were going to shit yourself. Relax. I’m not that mean.”

Steven sighed a quiet breath of relief, shaking his head. “God, yeah. Okay.” He took a sip of his drink, and smiled uneasily into the cup — not because of Andrew’s stupid joke so much as how much it impacted him, how much he wanted Andrew to like him. Before this moment, it hadn’t occurred at all how important Andrew’s opinion was to him.

They finished their cocktails quietly, chatting about work and life, and when Andrew finished his, he stood. “Okay, next drink. Mojitos?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Do you know… what a mojito is?”

“Well, I mean. I know it’s a drink. It has alcohol in it. And — mint. It sounds… good?”

Andrew snorted in response, and walked back to the kitchen instead of responding. Somehow, Steven wasn’t embarrassed. He had pretty thick skin anyways, and knew where his knowledge fell short, and was more or less alright with that. Still, he felt — more than alright about not knowing something Andrew did. It was a bizarre kind of fondness, because he knew, even if Andrew laughed, there was no malice, no judgement.

Once Andrew was back in the kitchen, something occurred to him — maybe it was the drinks starting to hit him again, or the atmosphere, but he was reminded of earlier, when they were still filming the episode.

“Hey,” he said, calling to Andrew from across the room.

“Yeah?”

“We never finished that game of Never Have I Ever.”

Andrew’s lip quirked. “Were we ever really playing? Like, for real?”

“Well, I mean. We were  _ working _ then. We’re off the clock now, let’s do it. For real.”

Andrew opened his mouth for a beat, then closed it again. Steven tensed, a heady cocktail of excitement and trepidation swirling in his stomach. “Fine. Okay. Sure. But if we’re playing for real, I’m not making any more cocktails. I’m not 20 anymore, I want to be able to get up Monday.”

“It’s Friday night.”

Andrew barked out a laugh. “You haven’t been hungover after twenty-five, huh?”

“Well, no, I guess. The mojitos, then…?”

“I have beer. And, uh, cider for you, I guess?”

“I’m in your hands, Andrew. You’re leading here!”

Andrew returned, two glasses in his hand — clear, sparkling liquid, with muddled mint leaves and sliced limes. Tucked under his arm was a bottle of beer and a green can — cider, he guessed.

“Okay, do you wanna start?” Steven asked, sipping his drink. It was sweeter than he thought it’d be, but a part of him suspected that might’ve been a divergence from the recipe for his benefit. Andrew was very much aware of his sweet tooth, and his distaste for strongly alcoholic drinks.

“Hey, it was your idea. You go first — wait, actually. I think,” Andrew said, trailing off as he stood, still sipping his drink. Moving towards his bookcases, he started picking through them, retrieving a box after a moment. “Here. It’s a card version.” When Steven quirked his brow, he smiled sheepishly — something Steven hadn’t expected, but found himself a little entranced by. It was cuter than he’d have expected. “Housewarming present.”

Setting it down on the table, he opened it up. They reached for the box at the same time — Andrew for the instructions, Steven for the cards. Their hands knocked together, lingering for a long moment before withdrawing a little frantically. “It’s Never Have I Ever, we don’t need instructions.”

“It’s good to read instructions,” Andrew protested, but let Steven draw a card up anyways.

“Okay. Never have I ever… made a kid cry and thought it was funny.” They both drank, and Andrew snorted.

“I thought you were a nice guy, Steven — you’re a fraud! What did you do?”

“Someone thought it would be a good idea for me to be a church camp counsellor. They were wrong.”

Andrew picked a card, and smirked. “Never have I ever made a fool of myself at a work holiday party.” Steven drank. He didn’t.

“Never have I ever dated someone 15 years younger or older than myself.” Steven didn’t drink. Andrew did.

“What?”

“Older.” He shrugged, and didn’t offer anything more. Steven wanted to push, but before he could, Andrew picked another card. “Never have I ever… been caught dancing naked in front of a mirror.” Steven and Andrew both drank immediately, and when they slammed their glasses back onto the table, laughed at one another.

“Really, you?” Steven asked.

“College was an interesting time. I’ll leave it at that.”

The game went on for several more rounds. They finished their mojitos, and started on their next drinks. Steven decided that he really did quite like cider. It was bubbly and sweet, and he almost couldn’t taste the alcohol. He was having a good time — he had expected he would, but he hadn’t thought he’d be having as much fun as he was. It was the best time he’d spent one-on-one with anyone in a while. The way Steven and Andrew clicked — it was natural. Thrilling at times, making his head rush or his heart beat out of his chest, but it also felt like coming home — easy, familiar.

He felt his breath catch, though, when he pulled his card for his turn — “Never have I ever… made out with someone of the same sex.”

He didn’t drink.

Andrew did.

“Really?” Steven asked, eyes widening. His heart was thudding in a way that was — different. Unfamiliar, but thrilling. Almost as if he was on the precipice of  _ something _ . What that something was, he didn’t know.

“Uh, yeah.” Andrew snorted, taking another sip of his beer. He was so casual about it, which shocked Steven. He didn’t know if he’d be able to say so easily that he’d made out with a guy. It was as though it was normal — commonplace, even. Steven didn’t think it was, for straight guys to make out with other guys, unless there was a memo he’d missed.

“When?” he asked, a little too eager. He was too drunk for his filter to work properly, slow him down and measure his responses. Instead, he blurted everything that came to mind.

“The first time? In college.”

“You’ve — made out with a dude more than once?”

Andrew smiled, but it was a weird kind of smile. A little incredulous, a little surprised. “Uh, yeah. I mean. Plenty of times. You haven’t?”

Steven shook his head earnestly. He couldn’t explain why he felt so  _ fascinated _ by this new information, this new piece in the puzzle that was Andrew Ilnyckyj. Fascination was really the only way he knew to describe it. The thought ran through his brain like it was on a treadmill, looping back and playing over and over.

“Well, figures.” Andrew sipped his beer again, and made no move to take another card despite it being his turn. Steven saw this as an opening, and before his brain could tell him not to, took the leap.

“Have you, like… gone farther with a dude?” Before, he had felt like he didn’t need to be embarrassed around Andrew. Now, he felt a little differently — it had to be embarrassment, because his cheeks felt hot, and he knew it wasn’t just Asian glow.

“Uh, yep.” Andrew was turning a little red too, but he wasn’t really showing any signs of discomfort — still meeting Steven’s eye, still looking casual.

He didn’t know why he felt the need to fall back on the pretenses of the game — it was clear they were rapidly moving past that point, but it felt almost like a safety net. “Never have I ever… fucked a guy.” He had to curb the impulse to bury his head in his hands, feeling like a middle schooler in sex-ed. The thought of Andrew having sex with a man was overwhelming for reasons he couldn’t explain, rocketing around his head. For a moment, brief but striking, he let himself imagine it. Rough hands grazing him, rough beard against his cheek, strong arms holding him up — he cut the train of thought off abruptly, returning to the moment, and realizing it had taken more than a few moments for Andrew to drink. “You paused?”

“I mean…” Now Andrew was blushing completely, glancing down at his beer, cradled in his hands. “I’ve slept with men. I didn’t do the fucking, if you catch my drift.”

It took a moment for Steven to process what Andrew had said, but when he did, his brain melted down completely. He had to stop himself from whimpering — the picture of it, vivid and unbidden, flashed before him. It took him a beat before he realized he was half-hard, and wanted little more than to touch Andrew.

He stayed silent, for a moment, and the air in the room was tense — but not in a bad way. Earlier, Steven had felt as though he was on the precipice of something unknown, but he was realizing, now, what laid over the cliff. This was what it had been building to, and of course it was. He wasn’t an expert in sex or romance, by any means, and especially not the kind of sex or the kind of romance that existed between men, but he knew flirting, he knew chemistry, he knew attraction — he hadn’t allowed himself to recognize what they had as that before, but it was so incredibly clear now that he felt foolish for not seeing it earlier. He hadn’t ever considered — men in general, really, but he wasn’t having a crisis about it, now that he was. That was a problem for tomorrow-Steven. Steven knew what he wanted in that moment, and knew he wouldn’t regret it if he went for it — and had an even clearer, more insistent sense that he’d regret it if he didn’t.

He leaned forward, and Andrew did too. It might’ve been unconscious, it might’ve been intentional, but it didn’t matter. He could smell Andrew’s beer, the intoxicating scent of his cologne. The record span in the background, low and intimate. With a smile, he raised his can halfway to his mouth. “Never have I ever kissed Andrew Ilnyckyj.”

Andrew’s lips quirked into a smile. “You haven’t.”

Steven leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft, setting his can on the table and threading his fingers through Andrew’s hair. Andrew kissed back, hesitant at first, but after a moment of adjustment, intimate in a way Steven had never known before. It wasn’t what Steven had imagined, and it wasn’t like any kiss he’d experienced, but it felt right. Andrew’s beard scratched across his cheek, rougher than he’d thought, but almost intoxicating in how right it felt. His lips were softer than Andrew had imagined. He was good at this, and Steven wasn’t — he felt new, naive, but not embarrassed. No, he was filled with that fond feeling again. He knew things Andrew didn’t, and where he fell short, he knew he could trust Andrew to take his hand and lead him.

Eventually, Steven pulled back. “Now I have. Want me to drink again?”

Andrew laughed, glancing away.  _ “You’re drunk.” _ He shook his head, still not meeting Steven’s eyes. “And you’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

Steven reached out, barely grazing Andrew’s hand. “I’m drunk, you’re right. But I like you. A lot. And I’m going to be hungover tomorrow, and I’m still going to like you then. On Monday, I’ll be sober, completely, and I’ll still like you then, and I’ll still like you a lot.” He kissed him again, soft and brief, as though anything more would scare Andrew off. “I won’t regret anything. Hand to God.”

* * *

 

The next morning, when he woke up in Andrew’s sweater, smelling his shampoo and hearing the shower running in the next room, he still liked Andrew, and he didn’t regret it.

On Monday, when he showed up to the office with two coffee cups, one with the name Steven scrawled onto it, Andrew on the other, he still liked Andrew, enough to remember his order of coffee and to get him breakfast, because he always skipped it, and he didn’t regret it.

The week after, when they were getting dinner at a restaurant with candles and ambiance, without any cameras filming, just the two of them leaning too close together and laughing too loudly, he still liked Andrew, and he didn’t regret it.

Andrew, for the record, still liked Steven, and didn’t regret it either.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought in the comments or @ andrewilnyckyjhateblog on tumblr! thanks for reading!


End file.
